A Bundle of Chelley
by Kira Lioden
Summary: These works are from my Tumblr, but I never got around to posting here. Since today (April 19th) is Portal 2's anniversary, may as well get them over here for those that don't use Tumblr. Many of them are going to end up with 0 continuity, but enjoy the random collection! Updates whenever I get my ass to write.
1. Random Chelley: Set 1

**#1**

"You know, love, looking at you takes my breath away. And I _might_ just need mouth-to-mouth this time…"

Chell looked up from her book, unimpressed. "Wheatley, did you just ask me to kiss you?"

"Ye-es?"

"We're married. You don't need to ask."

* * *

 **#2**

 _ **(chronologically would have to come before #1 but order of post)**_

Chell leaned against the table, and tapped Wheatley's shoulder.

He didn't look up from his handheld. "Yes, love?"

"Notice anything different today?"

"Can't say I have." He continued on with his game, and Chell patiently remained where she was. And for a minute, nothing happened. Then, realization crossed Wheatley's face. He jerked his head up, looking at her with bewilderment. "Did- did you just… _talk_?"

Chell grinned. "Surprise~"

* * *

 **#3 (Easter's Fools)**

She was simply sitting in bed when Wheatley barged into the room, a goofy grin on his face. "You know what day it is?"

Chell looked at him quizzically. "Sunday."

"No, no, no, I meant the date."

"First day of April." Her eyes narrowed. "You aren't planning a prank, are you?"

Wheatley made his most innocent expression. "Of course not, love. It's just that all the eggs and candies are on sale for Easter- which is also today, by the way- and I thought I might make you a sweet treat."

"Wheatley, if you made me another watermelon 'cake,' God help you."

"I swear it isn't a watermelon cake." He took her hand and pulled her out of bed. "You'll love it, I promise. Made it all by myself." Wheatley half-dragged, half-led her to the kitchen. On the counter, a pan held a frosted confection.

"Ta-da! Made you a cake!"

Chell hesitated. It looked real enough, and smelled of chocolate. But his face implied it was something else.

Maybe he sensed her skepticism. He smiled reassuringly. "Go on, love, have some."

She picked up a nearby knife and tried to cut the cake, but stopped when she heard the sound of paper ripping.

Chell looked at Wheatley. "That's not a cake-"

"Yeah, it isn't. April Fools!" He grinned. "They're cupcakes. But, er, it ought to taste like a proper cake." He removed a cupcake from the pan and held it out to her. "There you go, love. Oh, the… the frosting's all over my hands now. Could you, uh… Could you take it? And, wouldn't want to impose, of course, but I'd like if you'd have some. I cross my heart I followed all the instructions right."

She smiled and took the proffered cupcake.

It was a much better "prank" than last year's.


	2. Chapter 2

**Prompt from byakurenbreak on Tumblr:**  
 _Wheatley pushing Chell out of the way when a turret starts firing at her?_

* * *

"You really are good at this, aren't you?" Wheatley mused. "Jumping. Running. Sailing through the air without a care… It's like you practiced."

The lady flashed him a smile- a pleasant change of pace from her usually stoic expression- before leaping to the next part of the puzzle. It made him feel like his processor was working double time. Not sure why that was happening.

…maybe he should get that checked.

But she never left him with enough time to linger on the thought. The lady dropped back down to the floor, boots squeaking from the impact of the fall. She shot a portal on the wall beside them, and another by the exit, before bowing with a flourish.

"Show-off much?" he said. She stood back up, another grin tugging at her lips, before taking his hand and pulling him through the portal. They went through the exit. Oddly enough, it didn't lead to an elevator room, but rather a dark hall. They progressed into the shadows, with the lady in front and him a few steps behind.

At some point, she suddenly stopped, sticking out an arm to keep him from taking another step forward. It took him an extra moment to see why; the floor had broken apart, revealing the massive pit every room hung over. He tentatively kicked a concrete fragment into the hole.

He didn't hear it hit anything.

"Ah… that… doesn't look good." He edged a little further away from the pit, looking at the lady hopefully. "You can't pop a portal on the other side, can you?"

She adjusted her grip on the portal gun and experimentally shot the wall across them, before shaking her head.

"Well… that throws a wrench in the plan." Wheatley looked back the way they came, an idea forming in his head. "Let's go back a bit. I think I saw some other path."

Indeed, he was right. Sort of. There was a door, but it was locked via keypad. The lady gave him a "are you serious" sort of look.

"Ah, well… I can hack it, if you wouldn't mind- y'know. Turning around."

She rolled her eyes, but obediently looked away. Wheatley turned to the keypad. It was all numbers, no letters. He reached to press the buttons, but hesitated.

Where to start with this…?

A number popped up in his head, he wasn't sure why it had, but it was worth a shot.

He tapped out the numbers.

2-0-5-6

To his surprise, it clicked.

"And, uh… there we go."

* * *

The new hall was a lot brighter, though considerably messier. The lady didn't seem to mind; she pranced down the corridor with ease. On the other hand, Wheatley managed to trip over a chunk of concrete.

Just a prime example of an android, right there.

Nevertheless, they continued in amiable silence. Well, less of an amiable silence than a one-sided commentary, but in his defense Wheatley wasn't talking nearly as much as he usually did.

The halls were arranged messily, with doors every-which-way and turns every other hundred meters. But it seemed to have nothing harmful in them. No blood, no crazy scrawls, just bits of masonry and scattered paper.

So when they turned at another corner and were greeted by a deceptively innocent voice, it wasn't entirely a surprise that they were taken aback. The lady was already a few steps too far to get herself out of sight before the turret would shoot.

Wheatley didn't think about what he was going to do. He just acted.

He stepped between the lady and the turret, shielding her from the oncoming bullets until they were both safely hidden behind the wall again. The lady blinked at him, looking slightly startled. She made a motion to get back out there, but Wheatley grasped her arm.

"Just, uh, let me handle this, won't you?"

The lady looked at him hesitantly but didn't struggle.

Wheatley picked up a stray chunk of what may have been part of a wall. Coordination was never his strong suit, nor was strength… in pretty much anything.

But he still managed to hit the little robot and tip it off balance.

"Owowowow-" it cried, before falling into a eerie stillness.

The lady's fingers twitched around the grip of the portal gun, as if she wanted to launch into a flurry of gestures. She apparently decided against it, and simply gave him an awkward thank-you sort of smile.

Seeing that made him feel a burst of happiness, all nice and warm inside.

…oh, no, wait. That was his processor. It was actually overheating.

Great.


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompt from byakurenbreak on Tumblr:**  
 _Okay, looks like you'll be getting another one from me… Chell just. Breaking down during one of Evil!Wheatley's tests. "I just want my Wheatley back!_

* * *

Wheatley's tests weren't that hard. It was more of a avoid-the-massive-hole-in-the-floor-and-you'll-be-fine situation, if anything. But what got her were all those monitors, with him on them.

It was constant reminder who Chell had to fight if she wanted to live.

It shouldn't have felt this bad. If she had treated him with the same sort of distance she gave everything else, it would have never hurt her this way. But Chell was in an emotionally weak state when she woke up. She was tired, angry, lonely- God forbid she mention scared.

To hear such a friendly voice, after so long without someone showing even the slightest bit of concern for her… it wasn't entirely a surprise she took to him so quickly. He became her friend. Someone she could trust.

So when he turned against her, corrupted by the power he could wield, and then tried to kill her… it hurt her, so much more than the bullets or neurotoxin ever did. And Chell- despite everything she had went through- was still only human. There was a limit to the damage a person could take before they crumbled.

"All right, so that last test was seriously disappointing," Wheatley announced. "Apparently, being civil isn't motivating you, so let's try it her way, all right? Fatty? Adopted… fatty! Fatty, fatty no-parents?"

It was a pathetic insult. All three of them knew it.

Still, it was enough to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Chell tried to keep from crying- she couldn't break down now. She had already pulled through so much. But she failed, and it came out as a choked sob.

"What's wrong with you?" the potato hissed. "Don't tell me that hurt you, after everything I threw at you."

The potato was right- it was ridiculous to cry over something so petty, so… So stupid. But every moment of fear and hurt and rage she locked away reared their ugly heads. She was swamped.

She slid down to the floor. It wasn't like her to do this. She was Chell- quiet, stubborn, persevering. She wasn't supposed to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her will broken. But, yet… it wouldn't change anything. Chances were she was going to die, either to him, or to Her if the transfer was successful.

"Look what you did, you moron," the potato snapped. "You broke the only human left in the entire facility."

"I-I didn't… I didn't think that was actually going to _work_."

Another quiet sob racked her body. There was no voice to it, just the ragged exhalation of air. It was irony at its finest; she played the mute under Her tests, and now she really was one.

A crazy, hurt, broken mute.

She hated this- Aperture, the testing, Her, _everything_. She just wanted to go free, to where she knew she was supposed to be.

…no. Freedom was a dream she would never achieve. She had come so close, twice, only to fall back into this hell.

It just was a wish she'd never see granted.

But there was one other wish that ran through her mind…

 _I just want my Wheatley back._

And that- _that_ was something she might just be able to achieve.

 _There's still a chance you can get him back- there's still a chance we can both be free,_ she told herself, again and again, until her sobs quieted to little hiccups. Wiping her tears away, she shakily stood back up and made eye contact with the giant Wheatley on the screen.

He raised a eyebrow, an odd mix of relief and disappointment on his face. The small spark of hope in her chest flared up. He wasn't entirely lost to her.

"Oh, so you didn't break," Wheatley said, trying to assume an air of indifference and failing. "Well, then. Grab your portal gun and your little potato friend, and get on with the test."

Taking a deep breath and steadying herself, Chell picked up the gun. She cast one last glance at the monitor, then hopped to work.

 _I'm not going to let my Wheatley go so easily._


	4. Chapter 4

**otpsituations:**  
 _Imagine your OTP doing a reaction video to "Don't Hug Me I'm Scared" and/or "Smile HD"._

* * *

Maybe it shouldn't have been such a surprise; Wheatley did see the subscriber counter at 499,752 the night prior. But that didn't stop him from, er, showing his delight when the logged into YouTube that morning.

"Half a million, love! I just got half a million subs!"

A rather groggy Chell looked up from her coffee, sleepily blinking at him. "Sounds… great." She yawned. "Got anything planned?"

"Actually… no. I don't." Wheatley stared at the screen, then an idea popped up in his mind. "No, wait- I do! The subscribers, they could choose it!"

"You sure about that, Wheatley? I've read their comments before, and some of their choices can be…" She paused to take a sip of coffee, before finishing with, "Disturbing."

"Come on, love. It can't be that bad."

* * *

A few hours and one poll later, Wheatley was setting up the camera for the recording. Chell sat in a foldable chair beside his.

"Why do I have to do this?" she asked. "It's your channel."

"Top voted option, love! They wanted the two of us to do a react video together!"

"Wheatley, these are the people calling for our marriage. I can't even guess what they want us to react to."

"I think they said 'Don't Hug Me I'm Scared.' Didn't check out the video itself, but from the thumbnail, it looks a lot like that show on the telly- what'd they call it? Sesame Street?"

Chell shook her head, but didn't comment.

"Besides, the Mini-Wheats wouldn't do put us through anything really bad." Wheatley glanced at the monitor. "And there we go, camera's all set. Ready, Chell?"

"Just how ready are _you_?"

* * *

Turned out he was most certainly _not_ ready, and the video was _that bad_. If not worse.

Wheatley clung to Chell, reduced to a puddle of fears and near-tears. Why had they asked him to watch that?

"I will _never_ be creative again," he told her, voice quaking.

Chell patted him consolingly, staring into the camera with an unreadable expression.

* * *

Despite his shaking hands and general terror of having to see the video again while editing, Wheatley managed to publish the video before he went to bed. Whatever hell the comments would manage to spiral in the eight hours he was asleep, he could deal with after a good night's sleep.

And even though he had less than a good night's sleep (the nightmares!), Wheatley still went to the computer to check the comments. Armed with only a cup of coffee, he scrolled down to the comments section. Upon seeing the top liked comment, he nearly spat out his drink.

 **abashedfern** _7 hours ago:_ Look at Wheatley hugging his girlfriend when he gets scared! So cute! _#Chelley_

The replies followed with a similar mentality. Wheatley gaped at the comments for a few moments, before calling Chell over. She took the mouse from him, scrolling through a few more comments before sighing.

"I can only imagine what's going to be on my Tumblr dash when I log in," she said. "GIFs of that scene, just all over."

"They wouldn't do that!" He hesitated. "Would they?"

Chell's silence was more than enough to answer him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Prompt from mad-as-moriarty (via messages) on Tumblr:**  
 _How about writing insecure!Wheatley trying to get a job so that Chell will keep him around, but he's such a fail no one will keep him around for long and he just runs himself ragged until Chell is like 'Wheatley what the crap are you doing?'_

* * *

Wheatley felt like a miserable excuse for a human. He wasn't even supposed to be one, per se, so that only made him feel more rotten. But here he was, forgiven by the lady- who had quite the pretty name, Chell- and living in her little apartment with her. She had done a lot for him recently, from nursing him back to proper health, to teaching the finer aspects of life, and he wanted to repay the favor.

And the only way he thought of, was to get himself a job. He was only trying to help Chell with the money. If he could find one- get paid- he could show her he wasn't a dead weight. Not that she complained about his uselessness. No, she said it was _fine_ for him to stay in the apartment; he didn't _need_ to work. _She_ could handle the financial part of their life just fine, _thank you very much_.

Still, he didn't want to just linger on the couch. He didn't want Chell to overwork herself because he wasn't being helpful. He read the grocery bills, and the electric bills, and rent. It was a lot of money. And Wheatley wanted to help ease her load.

But so far? He managed to be rejected from over a dozen jobs, fired from the few he was accepted into. He didn't tell her. No, she shouldn't know, that would just be more stress for her, and he couldn't have that happen.

And today was no different. Another day, another "oh, we can't hire you because you're rubbish." It wasn't any different from back There- no one wanted to hire him. Shoulders slumped, and still clutching the various sheets of application and rejection, he sighed. Lost in his own thoughts, Wheatley failed to hear the front door unlocking and was promptly startled by the four words that followed.

"What are you doing?"

He dropped the bundle of papers in his hands and turned to face the source. Chell was standing in the doorway, dripping umbrella still in her hand. Before he could do anything, or even just explain, she was upon the fallen sheets and picking one up.

Upon reading the words on it, her brow furrowed, and she glanced up at him. "A job application? Wheatley, what were you-"

"Look, Chell… love… I can explain-" Wheatley gulped. Gotta get it out now, then. "Here, look, it's just… I- I didn't want to _sit around_ while you were off _working_ and getting money to support the both of us. We're not even a- a _thing_ , and you're taking care of me like we've already a _bloody married couple_ and _I'm_ the housewife, and I just… I can't. I can't stay here and not _help_ in some regard- it's… it's wrong."

Discarding the paper and her umbrella, Chell put her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes searched his face- for what, he'd never know- before sighing. "Wheatley, we've gone through this. I get paid enough to cover everything."

"B-but, _love_ -"

She placed a finger on his lips. "Anyway," she continued, "the most important thing for me, is that I see you here when I come home."

The words of protest died in his throat. "Really?"

"Yes, really. There's nothing better in the world than to see you smile when I come back." Chell pulled him into a tight hug. "You don't need to go out to get us money. Plus," she added, stepping back a bit with a smile on her lips, "I think I'd rather not pick up job applications off the floor."

"Ah… right. Sorry."


	6. Chapter 6

****_(As I wrote on Tumblr)_ ****

****As always, I'm Chelley trash and I did have this soulmate prompt thing saved for over one whole month (haha, beautiful, isn't it?) and never got around to writing for it. Well, tomorrow's the anniversary and holy shit i haven't written anything for it. SO HERE WE GO, HAVE A DUCK!****

 **SOULMATE AU: Writing Soulmate AU!**  
 _When you write on your skin the same mark appears on the same place as your soulmates. Such as if you doodle on your skin your soulmates gets those doodles on their skin_

* * *

Chell didn't know much about her soulmate, other than they really enjoyed drawing ducks on their arms. Yes, ducks. Not even anything special, just- ducks. Ducks drawn in blue marker. Rubber ducks, like the ones in the bath. Sometimes, they'd have a little "Quack" scribbled by them. They looked more of absentminded doodles than purposeful things, but there were so many of them.

It could have been annoying, but Chell liked ducks. At least, she liked watching them. She had sketches and sketches of them in her notebooks from her times observing them. So it was more endearing to see all the little quack-quacks all over her skin.

But usually she kept them covered with long sleeves, for sake of remaining unobtrusive outside. Only once did someone notice, a cashier at the craft's shop. Her sleeves had rolled up a bit, revealing one particularly goofy duck on her wrist while she was paying.

"Yours or the soulmate's?" the cashier asked, a glitter of amusement in his eyes.

Chell quickly tugged her sleeve back over the doodle. "Soulmate," she replied. "I don't draw on myself."

"Well, ever thought of returning the favor? Tried writing to them?"

"No." She knew she could- but drawing on her skin just never really appealed to her. But she never thought of it as a possible means of communication. Hurriedly, she scooped up the plastic bags of pencils and paint, offering a quick "Thank you," to the cashier before rushing out.

Once she was back in the comfort of her own apartment, Chell picked up the first marker she could find. It was one of her scented markers- the orange one. Briefly, she wondered if the marker's scent would carry over to the other, but she dismissed the thought. Chances were they didn't- the ducks never smelt like markers or anything. And even if it did, it was just _oranges_.

By the goofy duck on her wrist, she drew another duck, It was much more cartoony than what she usually drew, but it fit with the rest of the ducks.

" _Aren't you a silly one?_ " she wrote beside it.

A blot of blue quickly sprang up on her arm, like someone had dropped a marker onto her arm and it bounced off. Just as swiftly, another duck blossomed under her orange one, looking comically startled.

" _Oh! Didn't know you were looking!_ " the words beside it said. " _Hope I didn't bother you with them._ "

She laughed. " _Not at all,_ " she wrote back. " _Just was suggested to give you a reply, so here we are. 3_ ″

* * *

For a week, they exchanged little quips and doodles. They drew other animals: cats, dogs, horses, and a lizard once (it looked more like a worm). But most of the doodles remained ducks. They never bothered with their information- whatever magic that allowed the soulmate to see the other's doodle on their flesh refused to make it easy. No names, no addresses, nothing that can be used to trace back to their soulmate.

But in some areas, the rules were a little loose, and they played with it. Chell told them whenever she was going out, and from how hastily they replied, she assumed they were trying to get ready, in hopes that they might run into each other if they were in the same town.

(It happened surprisingly often for many couples, so the chances were decent.)

Today was no different. After giving a quick message of "Going to see the ducks," she was heading to the park, sketchbook and pencils tucked in her tote bag. It was a pleasant day, and many people were out. Chell waved to the people who she recognized and those that greeted her first.

She finally veered to the quieter side of the park, where she often sat to sketch her surroundings. Most of the time, it was just her, the ducks in the stream, and the rare dog-walker.

But today, today was different. On the bench she often sat, was a tall man, drawing. His clothes were rumpled, as was his hair, and his glasses were hanging rather precariously on the bridge of his nose, but he had an air of excitement and bubbliness that let her overlook his untidy appearance. He looked up from his own sketchbook, and smiled at her.

"Oh, er, hello," the man said. "Lovely ducks, aren't they?"

Chell was about to panic (were her sleeves up?) when she remembered where she was. There were real ducks everywhere. "Yep." Without much else to say, she looked at the bench. "Would you mind if I sat here?"

"Oh, of course not!" The man scooted aside to give her some more room. Chell settled down and brought out her own art supplies. For a while, the both of them were silent, lost in their own drawings.

Then, at some point, he must've looked at her page, because he said, "Oh, so you're drawing the ducks, too. It's always nice to see someone loving the birds. Lovely… plumage."

Chell looked up from her sketchbook, and he continued eagerly, "Y'know, I try to draw them. I really do. They're lovely birds, really, but I can't ever seem to get them right." He showed her his sketchbook. Ducks were scattered across the page, caught in moments in swimming or feeding. It looked like he had tried to imitate the real birds, and having failed, settled with a cartoon duck, much like rubber ducks. Suspicion filled her mind, but she pushed the thought aside for now.

"You might want to start using pencils," she said. "The lines are easier to work with."

"Oh, I would, but I've always forgotten to bring 'em out. And… uh, I always have my marker on me. Pencils don't draw very well on skin, and I do enjoy a bit of… doodling. On my arms." He laughed. "Good thing whoever my soulmate is doesn't seem mind all the ducks. Only bothered to reply a week ago. With an orange duck calling me silly. Smelt like oranges, too. Bless their choice in marker."

Well, guess that suspicion was right.

"…hey, you alright there? You look a bit pale."

Not trusting herself to speak, Chell rolled up her sleeves and showed him all the ducks on her arms.

"That's-" He pushed his glasses back up, blinking confusedly. "Those are… my ducks… Oh. _Oh_." The man stood up, an impossibly wide grin on his face. It occurred to Chell how _tall_ he was, standing well over a head taller than her. "So _you're_ my soulmate! Didn't think I'd meet you somewhere full of… ducks. Not that I blame you, it's quite fitting, with all our… scribbles. Ah… Ought to introduce myself. Can't go about being rude, can I?" He stuck out a hand. "I'm Wheatley."

She took his hand and shook it. "Chell."

 _And before they knew it, they were getting married in a duck-themed wedding and had a baby who was obsessed with ducks haha that's my crack ending_


End file.
